The Watcher
by The Final Lament
Summary: The Dark Age of Technology lasted thousands of years and represented mankind at its pinacle only for mankind to almost destroy itself through its own power, but surely not everything perished...
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Just an idea which has been buzzing around my head for awhile. Sorry SGU fans, no update for a while yet.

* * *

Farseer Isenda found herself in a lull in the combat, looking around she took the opportunity to observe her comrades, possibly the most assorted and motley strike force in recorded history.

About five metres away Teefsmasha was busy smashing his way through the other orks. The ork veterans size allowing him a more than slight edge in these close quarters.

A Nob charged towards her, smiling grimly she adjusted her grip on her witchblade, preparing to drive it straight up into the ork's chest. It proved unnecessary though as hellgun fire immolated the creature's back, Adac, one of two Kasrkin in the group, coming to her aid.

As the brave mon'keigh stabbed his bayonet, mounted on the hellgun, into the spine of another ork, Isenda brought up her shuriken pistol, the projectile passing clean through the skull of a particularly large Rokkitboy which was about to drop onto the unsuspecting Kasrkin. It landed with a heavy thud on another ork which the duo soon put down, working in sync now that they had an ally nearby.

Still the sheer number of orks, and corpses, was making it increasingly difficult to maneuvre, and if even one ork had the intelligence to use it's gun, rather than the crude close quarters weapons the species favoured, then they would be dead in less than a minute.

The fighting intensified and the two began to struggle to keep the orks off as some of the heavier troops finally arrived on the scene, having left the frontlines upon hearing 'dere's a big foight at base'. Still she wasn't too worried, the orks were to a certain extent ignoring them, as well as most of the others in the motley group, instead focusing on the once-human that was rampaging through their lines.

Claws disembowled orks, heedless of armour, as a stinger-like tail and taloned feet lashed out indiscriminately as bullets and blades bounced off of armoured skin. The creature simply ripping through the orks, only inciting them to fight harder, one of the more interesting paradoxes of the technobarbaric species.

Isenda looked down at her chronometer while Adac held the orks off of them, a hellgun on full auto was just enough to keep them at bay, they just had to hold for ten more minutes and then the objective would arrive and they could teleport out.

Adac's power cell ran dry. And then there was no more time for thought, just to cut and kill. More of their erstwhile comrades joined them, although the once-human that led them remained alone.

Teefsmasha took a shot to the face and slumped down, the group responded immediately, Adac and Elas both moved in front of the downed ork and opened fire on full auto as Indras and a howling banshee dragged the large ork into the centre of the group.

Things were beginning to look grim.

"Overwatch to strike team, targets have changed course and are inbound on your position, ETA two minutes."

There was an audible sigh of relief from the team.

The once-human turned and began to slaughter it's way to their position, it was almost amusing the ease with which it shrugged off the ork blades. Simply standing on anything too slow getting out of the way.

The creature turned it's hateful eyes upon Indras, unable to stop a shiver running down her spine, a small part of her mind convinced even now that the creature would simply lean forwards and bite her head off.

Then it changed, skin silvering over as it shrank until it was simply human. Admittedly in an expensive three piece suit completely out of place in the blood and guts of a battlefield.

"How is he?" The young man asked, indicating Teefsmasha.

"If it were anyone else I'd say good as dead, but he's an ork, give it a couple of days and he'll just shrug it off." Indras observed, often finding herself as the de facto leader when the apparently young human was in a shape not designed for verbal communication.

"Well the end is in sight at least. Can I borrow your radio? Mine took a hit while I was changing." He explained, taking the proffered device will their comrades forced the orks to find some sort of cover.

"Ok Overwatch, this is Tactical, we're receiving you loud and clear. All units are weapons-free, I repeat weapons-free. Also I want Orbital to come in on a bombing sweep once we're out, clear the lot of them. Over?"

"This is Overwatch, proceeding as ordered." came the reply.

Orks fell around them as the snipers broke cover, each bullet or lasround was a death knell for a chosen ork, anyone with any sort of leadership or heavy weaponry finding themselves suddenly a prime target.

"Just a few seconds more." The human promised as they're targets came into sight. A large Deathmob, nearly thirty deff dredds and a few killa kans, more than enough to change the course of the battle.

But it was far too late for that, with a signal synchronised flash the entire squad was teleported out as the nuke, fired almost a minute ago from orbit, reached them.

* * *

There was a cold silence in the debriefing room. Which wasn't unusual. The only one with any brevity was their leader, the human was calmly sipping a cup of tea as he waited for one of them to break the silence. He had long shaggy black hair and cold blue eyes, a firm jaw and a dazzling smile, but it didn't mean anything considering his shape was entirely of his own choosing, not one of his group had a clue what his real form was, in fact they only had his word for it that he was human.

Finally though even he had enough. "Well?"

"We nearly died down there!" Indras exclaimed furiously. "If it had been anything other than orks we would have... no offence Teefsmasha."

"I in't takin' none" The ork assured, at over a millenia old he was now so large and his skull so thick that the bullet had simply got lodged in his head and, other than a concussion and a headache like the collision of continents was, was already well on the road to recovery.

The human waited for a moment, allowing quiet to descend again. "Indeed you all could have. That is what you signed up for." He said softly, afterall why shout when it was far more effective to get them to try and listen. "You knew that, you have known it since I first let you all aboard. With a rare few exceptions you are all here because you would be dead were you not."

"That still doesn't mean you should be throwing our lives away on a whim!" Indras shouted, the farseer was becoming increasingly frustrated by the apparent lack of concern their leader had for their welfare.

"Hardly a whim. I assume you would all like to know what our little jaunt today has accomplished?" He rhetoriced. There was a general murmur of assent. "Very well. Not only did the massive casualties we inflicted weaken the ork offence but the Deffmob we drew away from the front lines would have overwhelmed the guard regiments there, without them Waargh! Dreddklaw will shortly lose its foothold on this world and be deflected into the Pyclor sector where it will find itself annihilated by the hive fleet fragment which is also due to arrive there soon. The hive fleet will also suffer heavy loses which will prove greater than what it can replenish from the sector's resources. This will mean that it too will be destroyed when it moves on, entering the territory of the Space Wolves. I trust that meets your approval? With a single surgical strike we have effectively destroyed an entire hive fleet and an ork Waargh!"

He looked around at the looks of shock on everyone's faces.

"I would have thought you'd be used to far reaching consequences by now." He said with a shrug. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day, I'd like to get some rest." And with that he stood up, leaving the team to their thoughts.

* * *

Author's Note: Voila, this has been in the works for a very long time, and don't worry there is a plot and the characters aren't as immortal as they seem.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Progress is, as always, slow. I thank you for your patience.

* * *

Isenda watched Teefsmasha work with curiosity, the ork was probably the second biggest mystery aboard the ship, old even by ork standards, and not exactly young by eldar standards either, he had, as far as she could tell, been with their illusive boss for longer than the rest of them. Today she was hoping to muster the courage to ask how he'd ended up here.

"Teefsmasha?" She asked quietly.

With a grunt he looked up from the maze of machinery he'd been working on. "Yes pointy ears?" He replied with a toothy grin. " Yoo wan'ed to ask me some'in." That was the other odd thing about the ork, he was unusually perceptive.

"How did you end up working for John?" The farseer inquired politely, "I've never actually asked before."

"I knows, dey all asks me 'ventual likes. Affer'a cupla 'undred yures usually, yure early." The ork stood up, or at least tried to, at fifteen foot, massive by ork standards, he had to stoop ever so slightly. "Still I dun't mind tellin' ya. But do not go shar'in with de uvers, I loik tellin' 'em meself, 'roight?"

"If that's how you want it to be." She agreed, deciphering the heavily accented speech with difficulty.

"Well it 'appened loik dis..."

* * *

A young Kommando crawled forwards to observe the carnage beneath him, the forces of Chaos swarmed over the remnants of a great ork Waargh! Orks were hardy by nature and the planet would likely never be free of them in any circumstance other than this; a new daemon world was being born upon this fragile planet.

The chaos space marines, a blight upon the galaxy by anyone's estimate, their weapons and armour far superior to their former ork allies who had taken the brunt of the fight. Weakened for just a short time after taking taking the planet from the imperial guard, the Waargh! had been easy prey for the Khorne worshipping psychopaths.

The Kommando took a moment to sight his shoota down at the hordes beneath him, the infinite resources of Chaos, not the marines but its cultists and daemons, in many ways easier opponents than the armoured, corrupted monstrosities that had once served the Emperor. A wise scout would have retreated but wise orks were a rare commodity. Still Teefsmasha was wise enough to know that pulling the trigger would be a death sentence, even as camouflaged as he was. Like most orks, he simply didn't care.

"A bad idea, my friend." Said a voice behind him, placing a foot in the small of his back to pin him to the floor. "Now you're going to stay quiet or we're going to die."

Teefsmasha said nothing.

"Good. Now normally I'd just open with an offer but I have to ask, why are you painted pink?"

"I's a Kommando." Teefsmasha replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"...aren't Kommandos supposed to be sneaky?" There was uncertainty in that calm, low voice, a rare occurrence that would actually become a source of pride for the ork in later centuries.

"Eva seen a pink ork befur?" Teefsmasha demanded.

"Well no but..."

" 'actly, we's real sneaky loik that."

"...No comment. Now, young Teefsmasha, I have a proposition to put before."

"A proper what?"

"A way for you to survive this battle and become one of the greatest orks the galaxy will never see, I will-"

"Or'right then."

"I haven't even told you what the offer is." John said irritably.

"So?"

The foot was removed from the ork's back. "Very well, follow me."

* * *

"...and that were it, and Oi've been foightin' eva since." Teefsmasha said proudly, looking to the farseer for comment.

The eldar looked thoughtful, clearly full of questions. The ork waited patiently, knowing what the first question would be.

"Really a pink ork?" Isenda asked, her brow crinkling as she tried to visualise it, her vast intellect coming up entirely blank.

The ork sighed. "Yes, a pink ork."

* * *

Another day, another warzone.

This time in sub-sector Orichalcae.

Just five of them this time, a small select strike team. The two kasrkin, Adac and Elas, Ry'ket, an eldar ranger. Isenda of course was there, acting as their psyker support whilst their final member was a repurposed (as John had called it) necron warrior. Their illustrious leader had decided not to be present on what he had described as 'routine and dull defence work'.

To be fair it was quite dull, they'd spent an hour building up some sort of fortifications and digging a crude trench in which to fight from, and the necron hadn't been any help either. The defences were crude and rushed, not how Isenda would have liked it but they'd been told they only had an hour at most before the Cadian infantry arrived. She hated fighting Cadians, they were too well trained and too well equipped, fights with Cadian regiments turned into meat-grinders. And she was expected to delay one for four hours.

At which point they were all teleported back to the ship.

* * *

"What in the name of the bloody-handed god was that about, mon'keigh?" The farseer screeched angrily, advancing upon their leader with vengeance in her eyes and a witchblade in her hand.

John Smith met her gaze cooly, hand closing around the witchblade as it descended towards his head, a tight grip around the edge which drew blood, the weapon cutting deep. But try as she might the farseer simply couldn't tug it free. "Calm down Isenda, please. This serves noone."

"I want answers!" She screamed, still trying to tug her blade free from the vicegrip that was somehow holding it ever-so-firmly in place.

"Don't we all?" John said calmly, "Perhaps you could be more specific."

"What was that job about? You said-" She began.

"I lied. I needed the fortifications to look rushed. You want the full story; here it is. An unusually troublesome inquisitor is going to be wanting shelter from a group of ork brigands a few weeks from now. He will take shelter in the trenches you've dug, at which point I will blow the place sky high, nice and simple. Problem solved." With a twist of his wrist, the witchblade snapped. "Now go to your quarters and reflect upon this before you next decide to throw a tantrum. You signed up to die. Be glad I haven't decided it is necessary yet."

* * *

Author's Note: And the thick plottens, as I said in my last Colony 11094 update, I'm gonna try for one update a week across all my fics until I go to uni.


End file.
